duction in the course of time. The general average of a flock can be 

 increased year by year by selection. Is there any limit? In time will 

 we have the 300-egg hen? 



Work on a poultry ranch is healthy, problems absorbing, profits 

 sufficient and pleasures equal to the best. 



BARNYARD MEDITATION 



"I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and 



self-contained, 



I stand and look at them long and long. 

 They do not sweat and whine about their condition, 

 They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, 

 They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, 

 Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning 



things, 

 Not one kneels to another, nor to his kin that lived a thousand years 



ago, 

 Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth." 



Walt Whitman. 



Our cow has a new-born calf. What a thrill of pleasure to go out to 

 the barnyard early some morning and find the long-expected already 

 arrived. There is a keen sense of joy in the first discovery of the young 

 of all farm animals. There lies the tiny little thing by the side of its 

 contented mother, and as you approach she looks up at you with a 

 solicitude and look of confidence that makes you sympathize and love 

 them. 



What a satisfaction it is to sit on the milk stool at break of day and 

 draw the rich, warm milk from the full udder, while the cow stands 

 contentedly chewing her cud. What a seat for meditation! Her large, 

 round, liquid eyes follow the gambols of the calf in its morning frolic, 

 and as you note her motherly oversight you cannot help but wonder 

 how man could be so cruel as to deny the mother cow the pleasure of 

 her own young. She is so contented and happy. All the world is new 

 to the little calf and it is amusing to see how it gets acquainted with 

 the inhabitants of the barnyard. 



The calf being a male, you cannot help feeling sorry for it, for you 

 know the male calves are not long for this world, they must die so very 

 young. How terrible it is to bring a thing of life into the world and 

 right in the midst of such ecstacy of living to have its young life cut 

 short. Its sisters usually fare better and are not sent to be slaughtered. 



As you sit there squeezing the sweet streams of liquid into the 

 foaming pail, many thoughts come to you and you have a feeling of 

 security and stability as you look around you and enjoy nature so 

 fresh in the morning. The old sow comes strolling out of the shed with 

 her little chubby pigs, and as the warm rays of the morning sun strike 

 them they too seem to revel in mere existence and are so happy. 



Sausage and ham and eggs and roast pork never throw a single 

 cloud over the joys of their present fullness of life. 



The old black mare munches hay at the rack, and so fat that she 

 is full of dimples. She enjoys her freedom in the barnyard after hauling 

 green feed to the hens and plowing the garden. She, too, is a picture 



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